


On Fever’s Wings

by Scullyslaughter



Category: The X-Files
Genre: And a little bit of angst, F/F, Shameless Smut, set during My Struggle II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6542551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scullyslaughter/pseuds/Scullyslaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You think it may look like you’re trying to suck her DNA right out of her neck in a desperate struggle for your life. The life in which you never tried to ravish anyone of your female coworkers, the life that right now you’re feeling more intensely than in previous 28 years, is running through her veins and slipping away through your fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Fever’s Wings

“And we’ll get an amplification. And this time, I’m sure we’ll see it.” You try not to sound frantic but fail.

Her desperation has been growing since the early morning, when she found out her partner was gone, while yours escalated in a matter of minutes upon realizing you might die and not be able to help anyone at all, but you know that panic in her eyes perfectly mirrors your own. You know that she didn’t choose to be anyone’s savior, but you know she will be. You know that by the feeling of living hot blood pulsing under her skin while you’re clutching her arm, pumping it out of her. When you cannot hold her stare any more you look away, but all you see is her skin and her blood as if the feeling wasn’t enough. You’d like to think that her closeness is the real cause of your fever, but you know it’s not.

“You’re not feeling well.” Her voice is low and gentle.

”Just a little feverish.”

Her smell is all around you and you imagine you have a dog’s nose and detect the blood, the sweat, the soap, the arousal and the fear. You don’t have to stand so close, but it’s almost over. You’re out of breath. When the bag is full you retrieve the needle and feel her pulse again through the cotton ball. The throbbing rhythm of her pulse follows you for a long time until you put the PCR tubes into the thermocycler. You don’t want to tell her it’s going to take longer than she wants to get an amplification, like she doesn’t know.

It’s her turn to grip your shaking hand and you want to tell her it’s not soothing at all when you find yourself pushing her small tense body into the wall and prying her lips open with your own. Her words meant to calm you down dissolve into a moan vibrating against your mouth. It tickles and you use your tongue to lick away the feeling. For a moment you suspect that you’re delirious and open your eyes only to encounter her piercing blue irises from under half closed eyelids. You decide that you can afford yourself the self-indulging hallucination and give the both of you a short break in this madness of saving the world. You push your tongue into her mouth and you’re somewhat shocked at the torridity and wetness you find there, as if you expected to feel something else kissing her.

You’re both wearing heels and she is a little shorter than you so you tangle your hand in her hair trying to bend her head backward to provide access to her neck. When the back of her head meets the wall with a soft thud you angrily yank her from it by the waist and you both stumble a little, her grip on your shoulders getting firmer. You swallow her laugh while teasing her with your own and it tastes hysterical. She moans when you suckle her neck and you think you hear the word “bite” coming out of her, so you do. She jumps and yelps and you find it strangely pleasing so you do it again, the next moment feeling ashamed for bringing more pain to her. You try to kiss away the marks, press your lips to her jugular and sense the fluttering rhythm again. You think it may look like you’re trying to suck her DNA right out of her neck in a desperate struggle for your life. The life in which you never tried to ravish anyone of your female coworkers, the life that right now you’re feeling more intensely than in previous 28 years, is running through her veins and slipping away through your fingers.

The door is locked but you’re half expecting someone to burst in and to tear her away from you. Your head is spinning and you have to rest your burning forehead against her cool one for a moment. Before she decides to cease the activity for your sake, you maneuver her onto the examination table and pull her camisole over her head at one movement. Her hands on you are distracting and you ponder handcuffing her somewhere nice and comfy but decide it will take too much time so you unfasten her bra and use it to tie her hands together with a simple overhand knot. Her look turns from surprised to amused so you may as well get away with it for now. She shivers as you press her back to the cool surface of the table and push her hands above her head. You intended to get finally rid of the rest of her clothing, but her breasts demanded the instant attention of both your hands and mouth and who are you to deny them.

On the first touch of your tongue to her nipple she surges up, so instead of a light lick you give it a full mouth kiss. With a hand on her stomach to hold her writhing frame in place, you pinch one nipple with your free hand while sucking violently on the other. Her yelps and whimpers caress your ears and you wonder if she’s imagining Mulder doing that to her. Angered with yourself, you graze the skin on her stomach with your teeth while unfastening her slacks. The sounds she makes, the softness of her skin, tied hands tangling in your hair, the smell invading your nostrils finally make it too much for you and you try to ease some tension by grinding on her still clothed calf. It’s almost enough to make you come and that’s why you stop. At last you pull off her slacks and panties and take a moment to take the sight in: Dana Scully with her eyes sparkling, cheeks blushing, chest heaving, nipples rock hard, hands bound, legs spread wide revealing wet pink folds.

Suddenly the thought of dying is not so terrifying any more, and you can’t think of a better way to go then buried in her cunt. So with a growl (you’re not sure from whom it came) you plunging your tongue deep into her, tasting her savory essence and opening her with your fingers. She squirms her hips trying to get some pressure on her clit and you generously suck on it, pushing your finger into her burning tunnel.

She’s trying to keep her lips closed but you can hear the high-pitched noises escaping, and when you add another finger, she surprises you with something between a wail and a squeal. You snake your other hand inside your underwear and begin to frantically circle your own clit while still suckling at hers. You feel yourself nearing the edge so you start slamming your fingers into her forcefully and soon feel her walls convulsing around you. You don’t drop the pace, though she is trying weakly to push you away and you start flicking your tongue intensively against her sensitive clit. A few seconds later she freezes with her back arched and mouth desperately open but with no sounds emanating from it. Streaks of liquid begin to wet your hand. The image immediately sends you trashing in an ecstatic frenzy, legs suddenly go limp and you find yourself lying on her fluttering stomach gasping for air.

You wonder what you’re going to do with the next few hours before the thermocycler goes off.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, this is my first fic and English is not my native language, so please be gentle :)
> 
> Huge thanks to @iceteainthebag for all the help!


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